Love is Blind
by GeminiLady21
Summary: The Phantom of the Opera was content with solitude, even if it meant loneliness and isolation. However, his forlorn existence is rudely interrupted, by the appearance of a plucky little blind girl. An odd friendship ensues. (Pre-Canon, Slightly AU-ish.)
1. The Most Peculiar Child

_**Author's Note: Hey y'all! So, I've always liked Phantom of the Opera, and decided, 'hey, why not write a fanfic!' So here I am. This story takes place pre-canon events of both the book and the Broadway musical - slightly AU-ish. Please enjoy!**_

* * *

The Phantom liked to fantasize that the Opera House that he called his home, was also his kingdom. He had no birthright or people to call his own, but he pretended that he reigned over this small part of the world. The divas and orchestra were his court. The auditorium, when deserted at night, was his ballroom. The abandoned balcony tucked away from wandering eyes and people alike, was his throne.

He was perched in his special place as usual, quietly watching the activity below. On this particular day, the opera house was abuzz with apprehension. Stagehands scurried back and forth across the stage. Costume designers feverishly followed around the divas and sopranos, checking their dresses and make-up. The Maestro was in a frenzy, as he shouted orders left and right at everyone who dared crossed him. However, no one below had the slightest idea that they already had an audience - that being the Phantom.

Everyone in his court was excited, and rightfully so. It was their last rehearsal before the grand opening of the great opera tragedy, _Antony and Cleopatra. _Their excitement was nearly infectious, yet the Phantom could not shake dark musings from his head.

_What is the point of a king without his subjects?_ _Palace? This is just my prison._ The Phantom mused, embittered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill scream and a crash.

"Why - why you clumsy _oaf_!" A feminine voice shrieked from below. He cringed upon hearing her voice - he had no need to look, because anyone could recognize that strident tone anywhere - the Palais Garnier's prima donna, Carlotta.

The Phantom peered down, to see that people formed a circle around Carlotta. At her feet was a shattered porcelain mask, the face for Cleopatra. A young fellow was sprawled at the floor, as he desperately tried to scoop up the pieces. The Maestro stormed to the scene, and screamed at the poor man to scramble off stage, then flew to the prima donna's side.

"Oh Maestro, what are we to do now? That buffoon _ruined_ my mask!" Carlotta's voice wailed. It practically grated against the Phantom's ears.

He cursed under his breath, and turned away from the scene. Like a shadow, the Phantom moved through the wooden beams and briskly navigated his way towards the backstage. It would be a shame if the production ended because of some costume mishap - leave it to him to salvage the show.

* * *

Little Aimée was bored, hot, and stuffy. She was stuffed into her itchy petticoats and frock, then whisked away to her Auntie Carlotta's workplace. If she had it her way, she would've loved to explore the Opera House. But no, her caretaker, Estelle, shoved her on a chair and left her with nothing but a doll to play with. Aimée traced the doll's face, and frowned at the texture. It wasn't even her favorite doll!

"Estelle? Estelle, I'm hungry." She called out.

Aimée paused and strained to hear if the older woman was rushing to her side. Nothing. She frowned when she heard nothing but heavy footsteps and shouts from front stage. She pouted and sulked deeper into her chair. Oh, how she was so _bored_! At least at home, she had toys and games to play. Now she had to sit still and pretty until Estelle returned.

The little girl fumed to herself for a few moments, too caught up in her ill tempered thoughts to pay attention to the sound of someone approaching her.

He was only a foot away from her, when Aimée caught the whiff of charcoal and freshly baked bread. Her eyes widened and she straightened up from her chair.

"_Clement!_" She squealed before jumping into his arms.

Her friend staggered backwards with a hearty laugh, and he scooped her into his skinny arms. Aimée screamed with joy, surprised from the force of being thrown into the air. He settled her back on the chair and tapped her on the nose.

"Hello, hello _mon-chou_! Why are you back here looking so gloomy, eh?"

Her bright smile dropped for a moment, replaced with an unfitting frown.

"Estelle and Auntie dragged me _all_ the way here, with nothing for me to do! I'm so dreadfully bored!" She exclaimed. "And hungry, too." She hastily added, when her stomach grumbled all over again.

"Ah, such a shame, such a shame." Clement sucked his teeth and ruffled her hair. She giggled and batted his hands away.

"Now, don't tell anyone, but I stole a little something from the buffet table…" She felt him lean closer, from the way his forehead nearly bumped her nose. He stuffed something in her hands, and she testily sniffed it. Vanilla and peaches. _Cake!_ No questions asked, Aimée began to stuff her face. She made a sound of delight when the sweet icing hit her tongue. Clement laughed. "Slow down there! You're acting like you haven't eaten in a full moon, eh?"

"_Clement! Come out here! Your idiot brother has done it again!"_

Aimée frowned at the sound of the thunderous voice. The Maestro. A very mean and loud man. Everytime he talked, he _shouted_, and it made her ears hurt. A very mean man indeed. Clement sighed, and muttered something Aimée couldn't quite make out.

"Ah, me for pity. The slavemaster calls again." The floorboards creaked as he got up. Mournfully, Aimée tugged at his shirt.

"Don't leave Clement," She begged through a mouthful of cake. "You can play with me instead!"

"_Petite-chou_, you know how it goes. I have to do my job."

She scowled at his answer, and crossed her arms. Clement sighed once again.

"Mm, it's not right for a rascal your age to be cooped up...tell you what, I have a task for you to do!"

She perked up at his proposal, and puffed up her chest.

"A task?"

"Indeed! I need you to bring these pair of shoes to the costume room."

Something is pushed into her hands. Aimée ran her hands over the new object - it was smooth and velvety, covered in some hard stones.

"Your Auntie was complaining how these shoes were so tight, and I was supposed to return them -"

"_CLEMENT! Get your bony ass out here, so the gods help me!"_

"- but, the Maestro calls. Can you deliver them for me, Aimée?"

Happily, she nodded. She would do anything if it meant not sitting around and doing nothing.

* * *

There was a costume room, filled with fine garments, gowns, and suits as far as the eye can see. Despite the exquisite array of costumes, the room was in a state of disarray. Porcelain masks and powdered wigs laid strewn across the floor. Mirrors were covered with dresses and fabrics. There were a few mannequins covered in a network of petticoats and unfinished dresses.

Most importantly, it was empty - and so, the Phantom made his move.

He stepped out of the darkness, from one of his many secret passages. His sharp eyes scoured the room for any masks matching the _Cleopatra _costume. He was sure there was one somewhere - albeit a slightly different color scheme, but at this point the prima donna had to take what she could get. With this goal in mind, the Phantom began to rummage through some chests. He mindlessly discarded capes, heels, and props to the side. One mask caught his eye - a pallid mask, made from fine white leather.

The Phantom stopped, mesmerized by this face he picked up. How wonderful would it be, to just slip into a mask and walk among men! It's a fool's dream, but a dream, nevertheless. He shook his head, and pocketed this new treasure. When he reached the bottom of the chest, he resumed his search through another pile.

Perhaps he was too dedicated to his cause, or became careless from years of living in the shadows. He was so caught up in his search for the Cleopatra mask, he failed to notice the door opening behind him.

He managed to unbox a round velvet box, and made a sound of triumph - a Cleopatra mask! It was chipped away at some places, but it was nothing that a paint job couldn't cover up. The Phantom swiftly tucked the mask under his arm, and rose to take his leave - but froze at the sound of off-key humming.

Instincts kicked in. The Phantom darted off behind a rack of suits and jackets. Feverishly, he prayed to himself that the intruder won't question his presence - people walked in and out of the costumes room all of the time. Why should he be the exception? Rational thought fell on deaf ears. His heart pounded so hard, he feared the intruder might as well heard him from his hiding spot. He crouched to the floor and peeked through the clothes.

The intruder was nothing but a child. She wore a light blue petticoat, with copper buttons lined up at her chest. From where he was hiding, he could not see her face, but he can make out her shining black hair which fell short at her shoulders. The child sang a merry tune under her breath, as she wandered the room.

"_Avait bon caquet, Jean de la Lune, Jean de la Lune!_"

From how oblivious the child was acting, hope surged back in the Phantom's veins. Perhaps the intruder had not seen him after all - by god, he was safe! He quietly took a deep breath. He just had to wait, and then he shall be safe again. A simple task. This thought put him at ease, and so, he settled down and waited for the child to complete her task.

As he observed her some more, he found something a bit _odd_ about the little girl. She held a cane in her hand, and used it to tap and poke around the place. Often, she either bumped or tripped over things. The child relished in rubbing her hands on everything - she was lovingly caressing a silk gown right now, in fact. A strange child indeed. He only hoped she would just hurry up and leave.

The child dropped the dress, and turned around. Under the lukewarm light, he saw her round face much clearer now. Rosy cheeks and an absent minded smile - fitting characteristics for a little girl. Her eyes though, were most peculiar. The Phantom could not identify the color, but from his position, he can see that her eyes weren't particularly...fixed on anything. Many times, he was sure her gaze swept over him, but she made no reaction to his appearance.

_How bizarre indeed._ The Phantom noted, intrigued by this small creature.

He watched her stumble through the costume room, close on her way out - but she walked right into a table. This table was stacked with relics and forgotten props alike - swords, shields, hourglasses, and trinkets. However, someone had thoughtlessly placed a marble bust right on the edge of the table. The sudden movement disturbed the bust, and it tittered over the edge, plummeting straight for the child's head.

Or, it would've plummeted on her head, if it weren't for the Phantom's reflexes.

Like a panther, he shot out of his hiding place, and yanked the little girl out of harm's way. The marble bust crashed against the floor and split into two. He exhaled, relieved to have averted a crisis.

The weight of his mistake instantly crashed upon him.

The little girl was looking up at him with an open mouth. Her expression was _dazed_. He expected something along the lines of screaming or crying. Either she was one very brave or very stupid child. Fear seized his heart, and he scrambled to get away.

"_Don't look at me!_" He hoarsely pleaded, and backed away from her.

He did his best to shield his face, pathetically covering his monstrous face with the pallid mask he found earlier. _It's far too late. She's seen you! She's seen you! _Hopefully he reacted fast enough to preserve her innocence - but his secret, his kingdom, his deformity was _exposed_. He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the worse.

A few seconds past - and nothing came. Suddenly, the child laughed and spoke:

"Thank you for saving me, good mister!"

Appalled, the Phantom peeked through the mask. The child was still standing there, listlessly looking at his direction. There was no horrified expression, no tears, no _fear_ on her cherub face. Rather, there was a dreamy smile - a smile at _him_. She continued to speak to _him_ of all people.

"I can't see you though - really, I can't see _anything!_"

* * *

_**Author's Note: Mmh, the Phantom is just a ball of anxiety, and rightfully so. I hope you guys like my OC, Aimee! She's such a darling, isn't she? Reviews are much appreciated! **_


	2. The Mysterious Stranger

_**Author's Note: I'm happy to see some feedback! Below, I'll respond to them before we get on with the story! **_

E.M.K.81 - Sounds like a good beginning to a story. I'd like to read more. Will you update regularly?

_**I write this story in my free time, so I'll try updating whenever I can. I'd like to say each week, but I dunno if my schedule will stay the same. We'll see!**_

Chevesic - Aimee is really sweet! Loved the first chapter! Update soon!

_**So glad you like my OC! She's a ray of pure sunshine that I'll protect forever!**_

Rennyangelee - hello there. I am a very enthusiastic phangirl Who has been blind since birth. I love reading phantoms stories with blind characters. Awesome job so far, hope to see more.

_**Glad you're reading this story! I'm curious, how were you able to type this review and read this lil' old fanfic?**_

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_**~Chapter Two~**_

Aimée beamed at the stranger who came to her rescue. She was certain that her savior was somewhere close. Everything happened so fast - she bumped into something and suddenly this stranger grabbed her out of misfortune's way!

"_Don't look at me!"_ A man's voice cried out.

She furrowed her brows and tilted her head. Why did the man sounded so frightful of her? He sounded sick too, from how hoarse his voice was.

"Thank you for saving me, good mister." _Remember your manners, Miss Labelle! _Estelle's rigorous etiquette training kicked in, and Aimée quickly courtesied for good measure. "I can't see you though - really, I can't see _anything!_"

Aimée waited for the man to reply, but he said nothing. All she heard was his heavy breathing. She extended her cane, and approached the man closer. The floorboards creaked underneath her shoes, and the breathing intensified. She took another step on something solid - his foot! He stood right in front of her! Elated, Aimée looked up at him, and flashed another bright smile.

Nothing. No response. Was the man just shy?

She was blind, but she knew he was looking at her. His eyes bore into her face - so intensely that she practically _felt_ the man looking at her. Looking through her, into _her _\- into her very soul. Something uneasy stirred in her stomach, and she nervously fidgeted.

"...Mister?"

"_Miss Labelle! Miss Labelle!_"

* * *

The Phantom stared down at the creature who so boldly stepped closer.

His body was taut, ready to take off any second. But, bewilderment kept him rooted in place. Awestruck, he gawked at the fearless child. She was practically standing on his toes! And she still gave him another one of these sweet, childish smiles. The Phantom gritted his teeth, and dug his nails into his palms. Why? Why was she unafraid? Screams, abuse, and threats he was used to, yes. Kindness? Preposterous.

Perplexed, he tried to rationalize the little girl's actions.

"_I can't see anything at all!"_

The answer dawned on him, clear as day. The cane, the stumble, and the aimless eyes - the child was blind!

"_Miss Labelle! Miss Labelle!_"

His revelation was rudely cut short by a woman's stern voice. The newcomer's voice carried from beneath the floorboards, which rapidly drew closer. The Phantom swore to himself. He got lucky with the first intruder being a blind child, he certainly wasn't going to take another chance.

He spun on his heels and bolted for his escape.

"Don't go mister!"

The Phantom froze. Stiffly he turned his head back to the little girl. She was trying to follow him, albeit tripping too many times to count. The look on her face was...downcast. _Is she unhappy with me leaving?_ He thought, incredulous at the very idea.

But, he couldn't afford another second. Left with more questions and oddities, the Phantom disappeared down the rabbit hole. Relief washed over him when he returned to his territory - darkness and shadows. He escaped just in time too - a middle aged woman who wore the most severe expression, stormed into the room.

"There you are! You meddlesome child!"

She seized the girl by her wrist and proceeded to scold her. The Phantom watched from his hiding place, watchful as ever. Was this woman her mother? If that was the case, the Phantom found it hard to believe. How could such a stern woman be related to the cheerful little girl?

"But Mademoiselle -!"

"Do not interrupt me child, I am not finished!"

Well, that answered one mystery. From where the Phantom was hiding, he couldn't see the little girl's face, but her shoulders were slouched from her caretaker's harsh reprimands.

"But, but Mademoiselle, didn't you see that man?"

"What _man_, child, all I saw was you stumbling around the room!"

The little girl tried to argue, protesting to the woman that there really _was_ a man in the room. However, the iron fisted Mademoiselle was having none of it. She dragged the child in tow out of the door, while rebuking the little girl some more. Finally, the costume room was deserted once again. Thoughts swirled in his mind. They all turned back to the blind little girl he met just mere moments ago.

How long has it been since anyone had approached him so freely like that? Talked to him, smiled at him like any normal man? The thought was dizzying by itself. One of the Phantom's gnarled and skeletal hands fluttered to his rotting cheek. Hideous images of his appearance flashed in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut. Distant shrieks and revolted glares faded in and out of his memories. Hatred. Rejection. Fear. That was all he's known up until this point.

But that little girl. Her sincere smile shined in his thoughts. Her incapacity was the very reason why she acted so kindly towards him. How ironic. A wry smile twisted his thin lips. The gods had such a cruel sense of humor.

Briskly, he walked through his labyrinth of tunnels and caverns. He made a quick trip into the dressing room, and left the Cleopatra mask on the costumes' rack. There. Anyone should find it. Just as fast as he arrived, he disappeared, and retreated deeper into the underground. The air grew thick and stale, and the familiar sewers' stench flooded his senses. He had to duck his head, since the ceiling was so low. However, relief sagged in his heart when he reached his true destination.

It was a dark and musty room, barely lit by a few candles. A moldy piano sat in the corner. Second hand furniture was shoved against the sloping walls. Home. Finally, he was home.

The Phantom shuffled over to a moth eaten armchair and sank into it. He exhaled, and took a moment to gather his bearings. His encounter with the little girl was the first human interaction he had in nearly a - what, months? Years? A decade? Regret bubbled in his chest. It was a shame the interaction had to be so short lived. The weak, human part of him so desperately craved social interaction. If only the entire world were blind...only then would he be able to walk among man.

_Still a fool's dream, through and through. _Gloominess, a familiar friend, covered him like a blanket. Sleep beckoned him, and he welcomed it with open arms. The Phantom closed his eyes and allowed the tendrils of sleep to drag him into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Ah, buck up _mon chou_, you know that the Mademoiselle was only doing her job." Clement's warm voice consolidated Aimée, optimistic as ever. She only pouted in response, her face scrunched up from deep thought.

"S'not that." She muttered into her doll.

"Hm? Then what's on your mind, Little Aimée?"

She ignored his teasing tone, and recalled what happened earlier. People may think of her as a simple child, but she knew what she heard and who she met. Estelle may not believe her, but maybe Clement would.

"Clement," Aimée spoke up, and tried to project the same authority Estelle does around her. This apparently doesn't work, from Clement's concealed snort. Aimée scowled, and crossed her arms. "Clement, I met a man up there, in the costumes room."

"Mmh, did you now?"

Frustrated, she stomped her little foot.

"Yes, I'm telling the complete and utter the truth!" She cried out. "There was a man, and he sounded very hoarse and scared - but he ran away and nobody believes me!"

"Hmmm…" A thoughtful hum rose from Clement. He was silent for a few moments. "Perhaps…perhaps you were talking to the _Phantom_!" His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. Aimée tried to keep a straight face - she won't be coddled like a child any longer!

"There's no such thing!" She declared with a proud toss of her head.

"Really? Such confidence! Phantoms certainly don't like that kind of attitude!"

Her gusto faltered.

"...But Phantoms don't exist. Right?"

Clement clucked his teeth, similar to an all knowing father.

"Ah, there is so much you don't know about the world, dear Aimée! But, because I am your beloved friend and partner in crime, I shall share this tale of woe and dread with you - I shall tell you the legend of _The Phantom of the Opera!_" Like the melodramatic imp he was, he paused for dramatic effect. Aimée tried to maintain a serious look, but was clearly fighting off a smile. Clement chuckled in return.

"You see Aimée, the Palais Garnier has been here much longer than you, me, your grandparents, and even your great-great grandparents!"

"Even Great Papa-Louise?"

"_Especially_ Great Papa Louise." He emphasized for good measure. "The opera house has been a mecca for art, theatre, and stories - but every rose has it thorns. For all of the Garnier's beauty and glamour, it hides a ghost within its great marble walls…"

At this point, Aimée had forgotten her irritance with Clement. Her mouth was slightly ajar, and her eyes were wide with wonder. Entranced by the tale, she scooted closer to Clement's side, and hung on to his every word.

"This ghost, little Aimée, might be as old as the opera house itself. He haunts the halls and auditorium, singing a mournful tune...Some say when you hear his beautiful songs, that surely means your misfortune. Some even say that the Phantom was responsible for the previous Maestro's death - because that Maestro disrespected the good opera house's name."

Aimée shivered. Her imagination went wild, and dreamt up of bewitching songs and ghostly whispers.

"D-does the Phantom a-a-always hurt people?" She asked in a small voice.

"Perhaps. He is a capricious being, exacting his wrath on people who displease him. No one knows what incurs his vengeance - but the Phantom _always_ gets his way."

Aimée hugged her doll closer to her chest. Out of impulse, she stroked the doll's lacy dress. She would've asked Clement what the word 'capricious' meant, but she was spell binded by his fantastic storytelling.

"But...I do know one thing about the Phantom, something that no one else knows!"

She jumped up and grabbed Clement's arm.

"What is it, what is it?"

"It is that…" He kneeled next to her, and put his mouth next to her ear. "The Phantom...gobbles up little girls...just - like - _YOU!_" With a great roar, he snatched Aimée off the floor and began to mercilessly tickle her neck. She screamed from both terror and glee, and squirmed under Clement's hold.

"Noooo! Lemme go, lemme go!"

He cackled, and tugged at one of her curls for good measure. She swiped a small fist at him, and managed to smack him on the jaw, but he only laughed some more. Vexed, Aimée pushed herself away from Clement.

"Meanie! You never take anything seriously!"

"Aw, Aimée, I was only teasing you! Didn't you enjoy my tale?"

"Maybe." She grumbled, but turned away from him. "I bet you don't believe me neither."

"No, no, that's not the case! Maybe you really did meet a man back in that costume room." He squeezed her shoulder, and ruffled her hair all over again. Aimée kept the frown on her face, but she let Clement mess with her hair. "Phantom or no Phantom, little girls shouldn't go talking to strangers. Promise me Aimée. Next time you hear or meet anyone strange, just run to me or Estelle, you hear?"

She kept quiet at first. Clement prodded her in the cheek for good measure.

"Hey now, you _hear_?"

"Yes, yes, Clement. I promise." She lied with the sweetest smile on her face.

* * *

_**Author's Note: I know his chapter was pretty OC-centric, but I just wanted to get comfortable with the characters - I hope you guys enjoyed reading them. There will definitely be more Phantom and Aimée interactions in the future. Reviews, as usual, are much appreciated! **_


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